Thursday, June 30, 2016

Corruption. Family. Betrayal. And a love neither of them were expecting... Wall Street meets the Sons of Anarchy in Hard Rules, the smoldering, scorching first novel in the explosively sexy new Dirty Money series from New York Times bestselling author Lisa Renee Jones.

A little sneak peek: She shivers, and I press my cheek to hers. “Don’t worry. I plan to heat every chilled spot on your body.” I seal that promise by dragging my lips over her neck, to her jaw, then settling a breath from her mouth, promising a kiss I don’t deliver. I want to taste her, but I don’t. I linger there, teasing her and me, waiting for the reach of her lips and I pull back, my hands flexing over hers.

As heir to a title and great wealth,
Will Masterson should have stayed home and tended his responsibilities. Instead
he went to war. Now, after perilous years fighting the French, he intends his
current mission to be his last. But all his plans are forgotten when he arrives
in the small mountain stronghold of San Gabriel and meets her.

Knowing herself to be too tall,
strong, and unconventional to appeal to a man, Athena Markham has always
gloried in her independence. But for the first time in her life, she finds a
man who might be her match.

Two of a kind, too brave for their
own good, Athena and Will vow to do whatever it takes to vanquish San Gabriel’s
enemies. For neither will back down from death, and only together can they find
happiness and a love deeper than any they'd dared imagine...

The tunnel was lined with damp stones
and the part Will could see in the dim light slanted upward with horizontal
grooves on the bottom to provide traction to anyone crawling through. His eyes
narrowed as he evaluated it. An average-sized man could fit in there, but Will
was broader than average. Keeping that thought to himself, he said, “Now it’s
time to discover if this goes all the way to the surface.”

“And if there are rats, scorpions, or
dead bodies,” Duval said dryly. “I’ll go first. I’m not so large as you great
hulking Englishmen, plus I speak the French of a native if I emerge outside and
encounter a soldier.”

“Those are good reasons.” Will gestured
at the tunnel. “Good luck!”

“I don’t envy you going blind into that
tunnel,” Gordon said as he offered the Frenchman a curved, broken piece of
pottery. “This isn’t much, but it might be useful against those rats or
guards.”

Duval accepted the impromptu weapon
with a nod of thanks. “I shall return to tell you what I find.”

Will was sure that he wasn’t the only
one praying for success as Duval climbed into the tunnel and began to crawl
forward on his belly. The four remaining men waited in silence, listening to
the faint sounds of Duval inching upward. He muttered a French curse or two at
different times, and then the sounds faded away completely.

“It must be a long tunnel,” Gordon
said. His gaze was on the floor, concealing his expression.

“The longer it is, the better chance we
have of leaving safely.” Chantry rubbed at his side. “I’ve cracked a rib or
two. I didn’t think it was worth binding them when I was going to be shot, but
I’d better do something or I won’t be able to crawl.”

Gordon stripped off the shabby
greatcoat he was wearing. “I’ll cut this up for the binding.” He used another
piece of broken pottery to saw the heavy fabric into strips.

They all worked together to bind
Chantry’s ribs, the activity a welcome distraction. Will had just tied off the
last bandage when they heard sounds in the tunnel.

A few moments later, Duval’s head
emerged. “We are saved!” he said jubilantly. “The tunnel ends in an old stone
shed that is one of a cluster of outbuildings. When I looked out, I saw no
soldiers near. It is raining, so wise men stay inside.”

As Will helped the muddy Frenchman get
his feet safely on the ground, Hawkins said tersely, “Then it’s time we made
our escape. Chantry, will you be able to make it up there with your cracked
ribs?”

“The rest of you go first,” Will said.
“If the tunnel is too narrow for me, I don’t want to block anyone else from
getting away.”

Duval frowned as he studied the width
of Will’s shoulders. “It will be difficult but not, I think, impossible.
Perhaps you should remove your coat and shirt. A small difference might be
enough. I will carry your garments up the tunnel for you.”

“Good idea.” By the time Will had
removed his coat and shirt, Gordon, Chantry, and Hawkins were crawling toward
escape. Chantry gasped with pain as Hawkins helped him up into the tunnel, but
he didn’t complain, just started inching doggedly upward.

Duval wrapped Will’s garments in a
tight, flat bundle, then used his cravat to tie them to his lower back. “The
tunnel is tight and somewhat damaged in places, but I do think you will be able
to get through. I will not be far ahead. If you get into trouble, call. We will
find a way to bring you to freedom.”

Will had his doubts that would be
possible, but he appreciated the sentiment. “If I become impossibly stuck, for
God’s sake, get away! There’s no point in all of us dying.”

“I am not so easily dismissed, Masterson,”
Duval retorted. “I shall see you on the surface.” He climbed into the tunnel
and began working his way up again.

Will took a deep breath, then followed.
He was not fond of confined spaces at the best of times, and the climb out
through stifling blackness would haunt his dreams for years, assuming he made
it out. Even without his coat and with his bare torso slick with water and mud
from the damp, there were times he thought he was lethally stuck. He learned
how tightly his shoulders and chest could be compressed, and it was barely
enough.

The tightest place was the very end,
where the tunnel opened into the shed. After two attempts, Will grimly accepted
his fate. “I can’t make it,” he said flatly. “Leave without me.”

“You damn well will make it!” Gordon
retorted. “Back up a couple of yards and cover your head while we widen this
hole.”

Will summoned enough strength to back
down a few feet and wrap his arms over his head before debris began falling on
him. It took only minutes before Gordon said, “All clear!” Then he extended a
hand into the tunnel.

Grateful for the help, Will managed to
crawl the short distance out onto a cold, muddy floor. He lurched to his feet,
then pulled on the shirt and coat Duval had carried for him, grateful for any
slight warmth.

“Quickly now,” Chantry said. “The night
is almost over and we must get away. We’re in luck. The building to our right
is a stable and Hawkins has liberated five horses. I know roughly where we are
and can lead us to open country. As soon as we step outside, we must be swift
and silent. Ready, Masterson?”

After Will nodded, Chantry opened the
door of the shed. The heavy rain made the darkness almost impenetrable, but
Will could make out the shapes of the horses just outside. Hawkins had managed
to bridle and saddle the animals, after stealing them.

The men swiftly mounted, Hawkins
helping the injured Chantry into his saddle. They saved the largest horse for
Will. Chantry led and set the pace, a slow walk so as not to attract attention.
Will was sure the other men shared his desire to gallop away at full speed, but
he knew Chantry was right to be cautious.

Occasional lights started showing in
windows as people rose to begin morning chores. But the houses thinned until
finally they were out of the city. Chantry increased their pace to a trot, then
a canter. Cold, wet, and uncomfortable as the ride was, Will much preferred it
to the escape from the cellar. If he was shot now, at least he’d die free.

By the time they’d put several miles
between themselves and Gaia, the sun had risen and the rain had ended, though
it was still heavily overcast. Chantry led them into a protected thicket and
came to a halt. With effort, he dismounted, one hand rubbing his ribs. “Time
for us to go our separate ways, gentlemen.”

The other riders also dismounted,
gathering in a circle as they held their horses. Looking up at the sky, Gordon
murmured, “I never thought a wet, cold day could be so beautiful. Knowing I
should be dead adds savor to the morning.”

“We all contributed to our successful
escape,” Duval said pensively. “Facing death creates an interesting bond of
brotherhood, does it not?”

Indeed it did. As Will looked at the
faces of his companions, he realized how unselfishly they’d worked together. He
knew almost nothing of any of them, yet he truly did feel a sense of connection
from shared danger. “Though we may be self-proclaimed rogues, you’re all men
I’d like at my side in any future tight places.”

“Rogues may be more useful in tight
places than honorable men,” Hawkins said, amused. His voice turned serious.
“Facing death was simple, but now we face hard reality again. How many of us
will attempt the redemption we discussed? I intend to.”

Gordon gave a twisted smile. “I’ll make
a start at it.”

Chantry looked gray-faced from pain,
but his voice was firm. “I said I would take up my long-neglected
responsibilities, and I like to think I’m a man of my word.”

Duval sighed. “What is done can’t be
undone. Perhaps there can be reconciliation, if not redemption. I should make
the attempt.”

After they had shared a dark night and
imminent death, it was strange to think Will would not see any of these men
again. Strange and wrong. “If this war ever ends,” he said tentatively,
“perhaps those of us who survive may meet again in London and
exchange lies about our heroic deeds and redemptions.”

“The Brotherhood of Rogues Redeemed!”
Duval said grandly. “I like the idea, but we shall need a point of contact in London for
sending messages so we might find each other.”

Will thought a moment. “Hatchard’s
bookstore in Piccadilly. I know the owner.” In fact, Will was a major customer.
“I’ll ask him to keep any letters he receives that are addressed to the Rogues
Redeemed, and that they can be read by any of us that call at the store. I’ll
give him the names we’re all using tonight.”

Chantry grinned. “Because we might be
lying about our identities? I like your suspicious mind.” Wincing from pain, he
stretched a hand into the center of the close circle of riders. “May we meet
again in more auspicious times!”

Will clasped Chantry’s hand. The others
did the same in a five-way handshake that made their agreement somehow more
real. When they released their grips, Will swung back into his saddle, thinking
he was grateful to have met these men in these circumstances.

He
hoped they all survived to meet again someday

Mary Jo
Putney is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling
author who has written over 60 novels and novellas. A ten-time finalist for the
Romance Writers of America RITA, she has won the honor twice and is on the RWA
Honor Roll for bestselling authors. In 2013 she was awarded the RWA Nora
Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award. Though most of her books have been
historical romance, she has also published contemporary romances, historical
fantasy, and young adult paranormal historicals. She lives in Maryland with her
nearest and dearest, both two and four footed.

Isolated and alone, Sin Evernight is one of the most powerful
supernatural creatures in heaven and on earth. As an angel of vengeance, he
hunts down the darkest evil, but when his long-lost friend, Layla Starling,
needs him, he vows to become her protector. Even though she will be horrified
by the man he has become.

Now a famous singer and the toast of London, Layla believes that Sin
is only here to guard her from rabid fans and ardent suitors. However, the
truth is far more sinister. Desperate to avoid losing Layla a second time, Sin
will face a test of all his powers to defeat an unstoppable foe - and win an
eternity with the woman he loves.

Excerpt:

One might
think being an immortal was a blessing, never grow old, never grow sick, never
die. At one time in St. John Evernight’s life, he considered it a blessing too.
He would be around long after the simple humans who surrounded him were nothing
but dust. They could stare all they liked at his “strange” hair and frosty
green eyes. They could gossip and speculate about him until they lost their
voices. It didn’t matter. He was untouchable, and they were but fragile sacks
of blood and bone.

How naive he’d been. Because living
forever merely meant a lack of escape from the desolation of regret and
loneliness. He knew now that he could walk down Jermyn Street endlessly, see
the sands of time shift and rearrange before him, and never be a part of life.

“Brooding, Mr. Evernight?”

Sin almost jumped at the sudden sound
of Augustus’s voice by his side. Damn, the blasted man loved to startle him. He
gave Augustus a passing glance. Dressed in conservative brown tweed and a
bowler hat, the angel appeared every inch the English gentlemen, save for his
dark coloring that marked him to be from Southern climes.

“It’s really quite the trick, popping
up like a soap bubble whenever you choose, Augustus. You must teach me how one
day.”

The man’s mouth twitched. “With your
luck, you’d pop up in the middle of a parliamentary session.”

Yes, Sin had abominable luck. Or
perhaps it was more a matter of making abominable choices.

“You’re brooding again,” Augustus
remarked.

“I’m not brooding. This is simply my
face.”

Augustus snorted but remained silent
as they walked along, past Trafalgar Square and down Whitehall.

“Care to tell me why you called me
here?” Sin asked, when they came upon the grounds of Westminster. For the past
year, Sin had been in Rome, soaking in the warmer temperatures, drinking
espresso in cafes along the Piazza della Rotunda, under the shade of the
ancient Pantheon. He’d eaten simple but delicious food, and listened to the
rapid fire of Italian, and felt…well, not peace, but a measure of contentment.

Until Augustus had sent for him.
Returning to England sat like a stone in his gut. But he would obey. Augustus
was his mentor, and the man who’d given him salvation. The price was a lifetime
of servitude. To be fair, his role was for justice, not evil, which was a nice
change of pace.

A massive dray rattled past, kicking
up dust and sending a fug of stale manure into the air. They hurried past the
cloud and headed for Westminster Abbey. Sin hadn’t planned on visiting today,
but here they were all the same. He wondered if Augustus somehow had led him to
their usual meeting place or if Sin had merely headed that way because of the
man’s sudden arrival.

He’d like to think the latter. It did
not sit well with him having another control his actions. Not since a certain
evil fae had kept Sin as a blood slave for years. Even now, the memory made his
stomach turn.

Not a soul acknowledged them as they
walked through the abbey and into the cloisters. Here, a rare bit of sunlight
peeked through the constant cloud cover and cast lacy shadows along the
walkway. The sound of their boot heels clacked out a steady rhythm as they
strolled along.

“Layla returns to London tonight.”

At the mention of her name, Sin’s
heart stilled within his breast. He’d tried his best to ward off all finer
feelings, to remain numb, detached from life. And yet he could not, for the
life of him, remain immune to Layla Starling. His childhood friend. The one
woman who could take his breath, his reason, simply by laying eyes upon her.

Stuffing his shaking hands into his
trouser pockets, Sin forced himself to keep an even tone. “So then I am to
begin watching over her?”

God, but he did not want to. It would
be agony, staying so close to her and never being allowed to show his true
feelings. And yet a thrum of anticipation went through him at the mere prospect
of seeing Layla once more.

“Are you ready?” Augustus asked, though his
expression told Sin he fully expected an affirmative answer.

USA Today bestselling author Kristen Callihan is a writer because
there is nothing else she'd rather be. She is a three-time RITA nominee and
winner of two RT Reviewers' Choice awards. Her novels have garnered starred
reviews from Publishers Weekly and Library Journal, as well as being awarded
top picks by many reviewers. Her debut book, Firelight, received RT Book
Reviews' Seal of Excellence, was named a best book of the year by Library
Journal, best book of Spring 2012 by Publisher's Weekly, and was named the best
romance book of 2012 by ALA RUSA. When she is not writing, she is reading.

Come join us in our expose' on Cassi from BEYOND THE THRESHOLD. She is a fun-loving, full-bodied hottie, who has her own unique look and style. We thought it would be fun to expose, with emphasis on the word expose some of her outfits over the next several weeks.

ALL ABOUT CASSI

The night of the Body Paint party Cassi and Beef went to
Beef's condo. They showered
together. It was a two person shower
with a rain shower head that poured over them in a continuous spray.

After being soaked, she handed him a bar of wild flower
scented soap, she had left there. She
liked as he gathered up a lather in his large hands, hands that knew her body
so intimately. Cassi lifted her arms,
spread her legs a bit, offering him full access to every part of her.

He slowly soaped her, from the bottom up, rubbing away the
colorful paint to expose the perfect smooth canvass of her skin. Each leg took a ceaseless effort of gently
rubbing. The painted-on stockings were
an untold level of detail that took time to dissolve. Ankle to calf, calf to knee, knee to thigh,
thigh to hip, inner thigh to labia, his powerful attentive hands lathered and
removed the colors. Did he linger? Why, yes?
Where? There. And
there. And especially there.

His ministrations were exceptionally gentle, but enticingly
provocative, especially her pussy mound, using a circular motion that oft
swiped over her clit until she wiggled under his hands, puffed out her hips,
urging more. Beef, though, cleansed with
purpose, wanting to linger but also wanting to finish, for he obviously had a
purpose to finish and begin another type of stroking.

Re-lathering his hands, he slid them upward, with a slow
continuous movement. He surveyed his
artistry a second longer then the feathers were soaped clean from her nipples,
again he used the circular motion, making her nipples pucker and harden, making
them deepen in color as he continued to rub and flick off paint layers. Finally, those nipples were taste-tested to
see if he had done a good job.

Cassi adored Beef's attention to her. She found most men were always in a rush
toward gratification. Beef was about the
journey, and flaming her erotic, endless fire aroused him just as much as her
sexual lack of inhibition. She found his
patience one of his greatest assets, and she discovered herself losing control
to him in ways that had once been alien to her playful nature. It wasn't just the sexual fantasy, but a
connection that was real, and amazingly that made her even more
passionate. She turned, nuzzling her
back into his huge chest, encouraging him to message her breasts.

The sounds of gentle lovers, migrated into the passion of
wild lovers, when she bent at the waist, and he entered her. The plunge offering a spasm of contractions
that imitated an orgasm, promising something even more wild and lasting.

He teased as he planted his cock, "I'm your
behymen."

"Be... hind... me."

"Holding handfuls of tit, Beef pulled and pushed.

"Boy, dance that chocolate cha-cha... dance."

The movement resulted in her pounding her head on the side
wall, a primal response without thought.
"Don't slow-up," she encouraged through winded gasps.

Beef wildly animal fucked her. Water continued to tickle their flesh. Steam rose around them. Her bracing hand the only imprint breaking the
gray foggy coating on the shower doors.

"Tell me when you are ready to cum," asked Cassi,
her own orgasms twice done and building again.

He did, Cassi turned, got to knees, and helped his penis
ejaculate on her face. Beef moaned in
satisfaction.

The shower water, whisked the jism drain-ward.

"Is there no end to your magic?" asked Beef.

"Why look for it?"
She looked up and there was an arrow pierced heart on the door.

Blurb for BEYOND THE THRESHOLD

It didn-t shock Sheriff Adam McGreggor to
discover the owner of the local seaside nightclub was once part of a sect.
Hannah Holt-s entire appearance and attitude just didn-t fit her profession.
Her reluctance to press charges against an assailant that left her battered and
drugged, however, did shock Adam to his core. Even more jolting was his
instantaneous attraction to this woman who fought his every advance.
But Hannah has a secret he cannot begin to fathom ... she is from a parallel
world....

***
We'd love to hear from anyone interested in what we do. Anyone who writes us at writingteamcw@yahoo.com (Write - Blog Dawn - in subject line) and leaves an s-mail address, we will send you a free ebook (choose erotic or romantic thriller) and add you to any future mailings.

Welcome author Liv Olteano today as we discover their new book, A King and a Pawn. Don't forget to enter the giveaway at the end of the post for a chance wo win the first two books from the author. The contest ends on July 8th. The tour is sponsored by Pride Promotions.

Bert Cooper’s life used
to be great, until his sister turned out to be a traitor. Now Bert feels the
whole pack looks on him with doubt and suspicion. To prove his loyalty, he
volunteers to be the first ambassador at Fey Court, gathering information to
finally solve the Leader Murders and punish those plotting against the Council
and community. At least, that was the plan….

When Bert meets Sir
William Matthew Sims, Court Interrogator, and one hell of a sexy man, life
becomes a balancing act. And when the Fey King is assassinated, things become
really messy.

Pack politics, fey
politics, treason, suspicions of treason…. Bert has to choose between being
ruled by his fears or standing up for what—and who—he believes in. And it might
just break his heart.

“Would you take me in as a trophy, Bert?” he asked, smiling oddly, a sort
of indulgent look in his eyes.

I wasn’t going to outsmart him, that was for sure. Luckily I didn’t think
I had to.

“I wouldn’t be taking you in at all. You and your kids would simply
accompany me. I’m sure you can find something of value to offer me so I’ll be
willing to go that way. And then you’d find something of value to offer Weiss
and the Council to give you guys, say, political asylum?”

“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

I shrugged. “I’m sure you did. I don’t think you’re a fool, Will. I’m
sure you’re not, in fact. So I’m giving you the courtesy of not treating you as
one. A courtesy I hope you’ll give me too.”

“Implying that I have not so far?” he asked, stepping toward me again.

My pulse spiked. “I wasn’t implying that at all.”

We were face-to-face, a step apart at most. My mind stuttered over the
few stray thoughts I managed to recognize. It was unusual someone’s presence
would affect me this much, this soon. Was he that special? Was our chemistry
that special? Or was he using some sort of spell on me? I didn’t think that was
beneath him. Magic wasn’t beneath any magic-wielding fey, just like changing
into a wolf wasn’t beneath me as werewolf. It was a natural part of who we
were. I just wasn’t that used to his natural part, and the very idea made me
smile.

“What could I offer you that you’d like to have?” he asked as his breath
touched my face with every word he uttered.

“Oh, I could think of several things,” I replied.

He leaned toward me. His lips brushed against mine now when he spoke. “I
could think of several things I’d like to offer you as well.”

I gulped. Shit, I couldn’t think with my dick. Not now at least. I so
wanted to. It would be so easy to whisper it sweetly: “Fuck my brains out and
I’ll be on your side.” But I wasn’t here for shits and giggles, so I couldn’t.
There was no reason I couldn’t hope I’d get a fuck out of the situation
somewhere down the line. The more time we spent together, the better chance of
that happening. That was pretty solid motivation to spin things in a way that
would benefit us all in the end. There. I wasn’t doing this for my selfish
fuck-greedy self but for the greater good. I was a fucking humanitarian,
feyitarian, whateveritarian.

“I’ll only ask for one small thing for myself,” I whispered softly.

He brushed his lips against mine. The touch sent little fiery thrills
down my nerve endings, from the skin of my lips right to the pulsing muscle of
my heart. I felt his breath hitch at the contact, and the idea it might affect
him almost as much as it was affecting me sent a shiver down my spine. We could
have been faking it, both of us. This was a negotiation of sorts, and now was
the time to bring on our top game. But I felt it in my gut that this connection
was real, that it wasn’t bullshit for either one of us. I just knew it in the
pit of my stomach. I wondered if he knew it too, as clearly as I did right in
that instant.

His scent didn’t assault my senses since he’d been hanging out in my
personal space for a while now. My senses were bathed in his scent already. But
I could feel the pounding of his heart as I deepened the kiss; I could feel his
muscles clench and unwind with sensual tension while my body sang with it. Fuck
me sideways, I wanted him right now. I wanted him so bad it almost gutted me.
The feel of him languidly moving his tongue against mine made my blood turn
into liquid fire, scalding my insides and bringing up my body temperature to
heights I didn’t think I’d felt before after just kissing. Everything in my
body screamed, This. This is it. This is
what you’ve been waiting for, for so fucking long!

“What do you want?” he asked after he pulled back, his forehead leaning
against mine.

Fuck, fuck it, fuck! “I want all the information you can get from
the Archives on a certain topic.”

Liv Olteano is a
voracious reader, music lover, and coffee addict extraordinaire. And occasional
geek. Okay, more than occasional.

She believes stories
are the best kind of magic there is. And life would be horrible without magic.
Her hobbies include losing herself in the minds and souls of characters, giving
up countless nights of sleep to get to know said characters, and trying to
introduce them to the world. Sometimes they appreciate her efforts. The process
would probably go quicker if they’d bring her a cup of coffee now and then when
stopping by. Characters—what can you do, right?

Liv has a penchant for
quirky stories and is a reverent lover of diversity. She can be found loitering
around the Internet at odd hours and being generally awkward and goofy at all
times.